


By No Other Name

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2004-09-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:56:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5918644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas fic for Indus - Unexpected consequences of the war</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

Day 1

"Sit...please." A grey metal chair hinged at the joints was pulled away from the table.

"Now, I only have a few questions before we can release you. I must insist upon your full cooperation if you wish to leave tonight." A little pile of shavings grew on the table, the grating sound of metal against wood slicing through the silence of the room. "Can you tell me when your first experience with the new system began? Reflect carefully-I need examples, instances, facts- not speculations."

A dull voice void of emotion began to speak. "I woke on the morning of December 20th, in the first full month since the war had ended." He paused, watching as the quill sped across the parchment.

"Continue, please. December 20th."

"Yes... It was a remarkably beautiful day. The sky was heavy with clouds and overnight it had finally begun to snow. It was really a Dickenesque sort of day, for everyone was in a fit of excitement over Christmas... decorations, trees, smells of baking-"

"Dickenesque?"

"It's a term my old schoolmates and I had derived from Charles Dickens-a Muggle writer of who's writing we had a particular affinity. Anyway, I woke up that morning to snow falling outside of my window and decided to engage in a bit of light shopping. Nothing too extensive; my partner was returning that evening, and I wanted to ready the house," he paused for a moment, remembering how he had also wanted to leap out the second floor window into the snow bank below. "Ahem... so, I got dressed, had a spot of breakfast-"

"Which was?"

"A cup of tea-Earl Gray-a bowl of oatmeal and a grapefruit."

"Grapefruit. Rather exotic this time of year, isn't it? And also not quite within the parameters of the import/export regulations."

"It was a gift from a very old friend of the family. She sent them to me two months ago."

"Continue." The quill's ink turned red as it recorded the part about the grapefruit.

"It was about noon when I left the house and took the direct route into town. Hogsmead Lane goes right past our front garden..."

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~

It was a beautiful Dickenesque December day. Velvety snowflakes sprinkled from a sky heavy with clouds and blanketed war- ravished buildings whose windows peeped out from beneath snow covered ledges to stare anew at the fresh new world. Squeals of delight sounded from the curb as two precocious children tugged their sleds along the drifts of snow to the big sledding hill just beyond the Shrieking Shack. It had been the first real snowfall of the season, rather late for these parts of Scotland, and all the local children were antsy with excitement. Mothers smiled indulgently as they bundled up their squirming children and bid them to be good. It felt strangely wonderful to be able to settle back into a normal routine, to be able to simply sip tea and revel in the realization that the threats of war were over.

The snow crunched loudly beneath Remus' slightly scuffed boots as he made his way down the main lane of Hogsmead. In celebration of the upcoming festivities, he had chosen to don a pair of cardinal red robes and a sharp black bowler's hat that had once belonged to his father. Feeling unabashedly cheerful and not quite entirely like his normal reserved self, he began to whistle a bawdy little ditty Sirius had taught him back in school, his footsteps skipping jauntily along the pavement. It was with a happy heart that he returned Madam Rosmerta's greeting as she paused in her task of frosting tiny snowflake patterns on her paned windows to wave. Next door, the Conley brothers, older siblings of the proprietress of Gladrags and long time friends of he and Sirius, stood beneath the eaves of the shop fussing with a tangled mess of red and green fairy lights. With a light sure footstep, Remus nimbly weeded his way through the throng of passersby to exchange greetings.

"Calvin! Mark! I hope you're both doing well," he smiled, his pale cheeks rosy from the cold.

Calvin, the older of the two, shuffled a wicker basket to his other arm and shook Remus' gloved hand. "Well, since the war's finally over and this bloody mess is behind us, we're great."

"Yes... it's going to be a wonderful Christmas," Remus agreed, his eyes following Calvin's as a group of particularly boisterous children ran by, sleds in tow.

"Say, Lupin. Have you heard anything recently?" Mark paused in his task of unraveling the pesky lights to offer a round of cigars. "I've been out of the country in the States the past few months-pretty much cut off, ya know. Old Aunt Lira finally died."

Remus shook his head, remembering the old lady who used to bake the pumpkin pasties for Honeydukes. "I'm sorry to hear she passed away. How are your parents?" He swiftly removed his wand to offer a light.

Mark's cheeks caved as he puffed on his cigar. "Mum's holding up. Aunt Lira was really Dad's aunt and was getting a bit batty in her old age. It was a bit of a relief actually-she kept insisting that she was Candida Summers. Pranced about all day in these filmy pieces of purple material-which is not a sexy site, Lupin, so stop grinning-and would only answer to Lady Summers. Let's just hope it's not catching," he muttered as a wreath of heady smoke enveloped the men. "Speaking of Aunt Lira, did you get her package?"

"Ah yes... the grapefruit. I did. I had one this morning, actually. Thank your family again for me." Remus smiled at the memory of the crotchety old lady who had taken great delight in rapping small fingers sneaking in to break off a bit of the pasties' buttery crust. "It's been quiet," he said in reply to Mark's question, putting away his wand and trying to erase the image of a toothless lady masquerading as the gorgeous wizarding singer Candida Summers, who even still managed to stir his loins despite his preferences. "Sirius said Highland is moving the prisoners again. Azkaban's the likeliest spot this time of year."

"Yeah, freeze the bastards out," Calvin chuckled.

"Even after what happened before?" Mark asked with a frown.

"That was Fudge's fault that the Dementors broke through the wards. Highland's a fucking genius of a Minister. I'd like to see those Dementors break through his lines! He's like a commandeering bull, that one!" Calvin's enthusiasm was like marionette strings as Mark's head bobbed up and down. Highland's recent corralling of two hundred Death Eaters in five days had spread about the wizarding world like wildfire, and there were very few who didn't look upon him with some form of hero-worship.

"Yes, well," Remus' smile was forced as he touched the brim of his hat. "I'm off to do a bit of holiday shopping. Both of you please, stop by soon... although I'll ask that it not be tonight." A different type of red blossomed in his cheeks.

Mark nudged Calvin who was watching Remus with a peculiar _expression. "That can only mean Sirius is coming home."

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"I sense a reservation in your regard for Minister Highland."

"Minister Highland is directly responsible for my being here. Our history is complex, and I am afraid that I am in a rather untenable position, for I can neither condemn nor condone his actions."

"Neither condemn nor condone! Why Voldemort's downfall can be directly linked to the Minister's very wise and extremely calculated decisions. One could even go as far as to say that **he** is the one responsible for your being alive."

"I still withhold judgment... although I will say that the end of the war and Voldemort's defeat rests more on the shoulders of a boy who possesses courage beyond that of a million extraordinary men combined."

"You are aware that your statement could be construed as treason." A pregnant pause ensued; a battle of wills in which the victory prize was the right to remain silent. "Fine, continue." The quill began to scratch again.

"As I was saying, everyone at this point looked upon Highland as some sort of hero..."

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~

Laughing lightly, Remus shook hands, bid the boys farewell, and made his way down the lane, his footsteps decidedly heavier than before.

"Oi, Lupin!" Remus turned with surprise as Mark jogged up. "You wanna get a drink when you're finished? Calvin and I'll be done in about an hour. How about meeting at the Three Broomsticks? A little pre-celebration if you know what I mean?"

Glancing over Mark's shoulder, Remus saw Calvin's hands still at Mark's question. "Well... okay. Save a table if you get there first. The Headmaster is letting the students who stayed behind for the holidays come into town this afternoon."

Mark grinned. "Still remember the old schedule, eh?"

Laughing politely, Remus shrugged as if embarrassed. "Old habits die hard, Mark."

"Ever the professor, Lupin," he teased. "All right-two o'clock it is."

Remus' narrowed eyes watched speculatively as Mark trotted back to Calvin. The Conley brothers had been first and second years during the Marauder's third, but with their notorious streak for mischief, James and Sirius had only been too glad to include them on some of their more daring escapades. A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth as he remembered his first twinges of boyhood jealously when it appeared that Sirius was spending a little **too** much time with Calvin Conley. It still bothered him to no end that one could never deny that Calvin was handsome-chin-length brown spiral curls that the girls teased him about mercilessly, and of which Remus actually held the opinion that perhaps he **did** use a curling tonic to make them come out that way. **Certainly no one's hair curls naturally like one of Botticelli's angels** , he thought irritably, touching his own graying tresses. It irked him that Calvin who was thirty-seven to Remus' thirty-eight could manage to still look so damn virile and...well... **sexy**.

Shoving aside that discomforting notion that never failed to upset his stomach, Remus tried to return his focus back on his original purpose for coming into the village. **Ah yes... a gift for Sirius... something small to make him smile.** A bit of lightness returned to his step as he glanced at the shop windows and puzzled over possibilities. There existed the slight problem that since Sirius was away on Order business for a good portion of each month, any gift he might buy would have little chance of being put to use. New robes were out of the question for the Order mandated the wearing of uniforms, and when Sirius **was** home he liked to lounge about in only the bare essentials. Remus blushed. He was also realistic enough to know that any book he gave his hyper mate would most likely end up becoming a coaster unless it had photographs, and books of that sort were so expensive nowadays.

‚Perhaps a new dressing robe might do the trick', he mused. The old tartan one his mate insisted on wearing every night was frayed at the edges and nearly pastel from years of washing. It held deep sentimental value though, being one of the only articles of clothes that pre-dated Azkaban, and Remus, who was never one to disregard the importance of familiarity, had managed so far to resist the temptation of cutting the garment into dusting rags. However, on the last wearing both of Sirius' elbows had poked through the sleeves, and try as Remus might, the fabric was simply too threadbare to mend further. Turning to head back to the shop, he froze in mid- action, one foot poised in the air, as Mark reached up to detangle the lights caught in Calvin's hair. Such a simple act, just a touch... and yet as Remus stared at the fingers engaged in a tug-of-war with the protesting fairies, he was propelled back in time to fifth year- to that dreadful day when he had walked unannounced into the common room and had caught Sirius' fingers twirling themselves in those silky curls. At the time the shock had rendered him speechless, and he had chosen to run instead of waiting to hear Sirius trip over his words; for Sirius who was smoothest when being brash or showing off had never been very articulate when nervous. Over the years the memory had detached itself from the foreground of his mind, settling in the place where old unpleasantries and sorrowful visions lay dormant, waiting for the day to be beckoned forward.

He hadn't thought of that episode in years, for Sirius had never shown anything more than a marked compunction of friendliness towards the other boy. But that didn't diminish the fact that Calvin was more handsome than he, Remus, or the fact that Sirius' fingers, **his** fingers, for pledges of love had bound the two, had been seen caressing another. 'Or the fact that Calvin is fully a man...a man in love with Sirius...my Sirius.' But with his ever calm, kind demeanor, Remus chose, instead of hating a person who had been one of the few to believe in Sirius' innocence all along, to latch on and became close friends with both brothers, his last true connection to the past.

The wind was beginning to pick up, stirring about the drifts of snow, and the scattered parts of Remus' mind wondered absently if he had chopped enough firewood. Anchoring his scarf securely about his neck, he walked towards the direction of Dervish and Banges, remembering Sirius' latest hastily scratched epistle in which he had written about running out of dragonfly wings and smashing his mortar and pestle. He hadn't actually asked Remus to pick up the items, but it was a well established fact that out in the field Highland placed strict restrictions on the members' time and leaving to purchase supplies didn't qualify as an emergency. Likewise, Remus never minded doing these small things for his mate, simple gestures of love that bespoke of fondness and generosity.

The Order was a particularly sore subject for Remus, and as he walked down the lane, he prayed Mark wouldn't bring it up over drinks. With uncharacteristic rage, he kicked angrily at a stone on the sidewalk and watched as it narrowly missed the underbelly of a passing cat. The feline hissed at Remus, its soft paws scattering the perfectly spaced tracks in the snow. Before he could open his mouth to apologize for his surly behavior, the cat skulked away into the narrow passageway between Dervish and Banges and a little bed and breakfast where a terrible rendition of Jingle Bells was screeching through the open door.

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"At this time, how long had Mr. Black been in the field?"

"Seven months, three weeks, two days, and twelve hours."

"And at anytime during this period was he granted leave?"

"Highland gave each man a two day furrow for every six months worked. However, at this time, code red assignments prohibited Order members from taking leave."

"So at this point you had not seen Mr. Black in... let's see... seven months, three weeks, two days, and twelve hours."

"That is correct."

"Go on, please."

~~~~ Flashback~~~~

Stamping the snow off his boots, Remus opened the door to the equipment shop. A little bundle of bells nailed to the frame peeled madly. There was a dusty sort of silence to the room-the kind suggestive of minimal occupation and very little cleaning, where dust bunnies floated down from overstuffed shelves to pile like sand on the wooden floorboards. Remus sneezed as he squinted to read the placards at the end of each shelving unit. Cauldrons... crystal phials... flasks... ah, mortars and pestles. A ghost of a shiver traveled down Remus' spine as he noted the surplus of items on the shelves... items that had at one time been owed by all the casualties of war. The five rows of ivory white mortars reminded him of rows upon rows of bone white graves. Running a finger across cold marble surfaces and warm wooden bowls, he figured there must be over five hundred sets laid out before him. After a hurried perusal, he selected a fine black and blue marble set that had caught his eye-the black marble being the same shade of Sirius' obsidian locks and the blue the color of Sirius' flashing eyes when stormy.

Carrying the mortar and pestle carefully to the counter, Remus surveyed the shelf-lined wall behind the register. It was strange to have to ask for assistance for even the basic of ingredients, but every witch and wizard of reason was fully aware that the age of putting faith in the customers had become but a memory of the past as magical ingredients became more and more scarce from a combination of thievery and depleted resources. Waiting patiently to be acknowledge, Remus noted the continued theme of dustiness that appeared to have carried over to the jars and wondered who the new management was now that Old Mr. Dervish had joined his cousin, Olsen Banges as casualties of war.

"Hello?" he called, utilizing a quick dust-repellant charm to clear the labels. Glancing about he realized he was still the only person in the store. After a lengthy pause, Remus felt the floor boards shake. From seemingly out of nowhere, a medium sized goblin came into view pushing before him a stubby footstool until it rested just under a register with large black and silver keys. The wizened ugly little creature with a long hooked nose climbed to his post and surveyed Remus with frosty beady eyes.

'Goblins are running the store?' Puzzled, Remus tried to keep his expression neutral as even he knew that goblins were not the sort to be trifled with. 'Since when have goblins become the new management?'

"Since Minister Highland came into office. I assume you haven't been to the shops recently?"

Caught by surprise, Remus fell back a step. "You..." he began cautiously, not quite certain what to say. "You knew what I said just then?"

Clicking his pointed teeth, the goblin's long yellow nails curled against the counter. "We're specialists now. We've been equipped to read minds."

Rather taken aback, Remus wondered how this bit of information had slipped his attention. 'Surely the Daily Prophet would have written about this very peculiar switch in management-and-'. Putting a halt to his thoughts as judging by the _expression on the goblin's face he wasn't pleased by what Remus was thinking, he gestured towards a nearly empty jar of dragonfly wings. "I'd like to purchase a gram of dragonfly wings, please."

The goblin hopped off his stool, picked it up with surprisingly strong arms, and carried it across the floor to the jars of various crushed specimens. He scooped the purple-green iridescent powder onto the scale, and as Remus watched his calculating eyes remove what seemed like individuals grains to balance the weight, he knew the days of getting a bit more than you paid for were over. Mr. Dervish's personality and business sense, it would seem, had been the complete opposites of a goblin's.

Satisfied that not a milligram extra was on the tray, the goblin slowly tipped the mouth of the metal scoop into an ancient leather satchel, the powder hissing as it fell. And thus began the entire stool lifting process again. Remus knew the goblin was ignoring him, for his thoughts at the moment ranged from being mildly annoyed to seeping with curiosity.

At long last the total was rung up on the ancient cash machine. "Three galleons, seven sickles," said the dry raspy voice in a tone that wasn't a request.

Remus slowly extracted the exact amount from his pocket, no longer astonished by the inflation of prices. As he gathered his packages and turned to leave, the raspy voice called out to him rather impatiently.

"Your card, sir."

"Pardon?"

"Your identification card. Ministry policy."

"Yes, yes of course." Remus fumbled about his pockets, hoping that he had remembered to pick it up off his dresser this morning before leaving the house. "Ah..." Placing the card front side up on the counter, he waited for whatever formalities the Ministry had deemed necessary to begin.

The goblin's eyes grew as round as saucers as he hitched his breath.

Frowning, Remus leaned over to have a look. Everything looked normal, albeit his expression was perhaps a bit goofy. Ah yes... the photographer had been a bit of a bumbling idiot, snapping the camera on the count of two instead of the customary three. "Is there a problem?" Frankly, Remus only vaguely remembered an order that had been delivered a few weeks ago stating that all magical persons were to receive an identification card. At the time he had written to Sirius and they had both assumed it to be part of the aftermath of the war as a letter had also arrived for Sirius. And now, with this silly goblin shaking before him, Remus recalled that there had been a section in the guide book instructing all establishments to check identification cards for tracking purposes as dark witches and wizards before and during the war had nearly ambushed the supplies.

"Well?" he prodded when it appeared that the goblin had been rendered speechless. Annoyed, Remus decided to go against his own protocol and began to sniff the air. The sudden assault of fear striking his nostrils bothered him immensely. 'You're afraid of me?' The goblin nodded. 'Why would' -shaking his head, Remus moved his card about to scrutinize it. "Why are you afraid of me?" he repeated aloud.

"Werewolf!" the goblin managed to squeak as sweat began to bead along the ridges of his forehead. "We're prohibited from selling to werewolves!" Covering his eyes and howling ear-piercing shrieks, the goblin took a hasty step backwards and promptly fell from the stool. Automatically, Remus flew into action and ran around the counter to assist him. "No! No! Out! Get out!"

"But why!"

Trying desperately to regain his authority, the goblin reached out his bony hand to snatch back the leather satchel of dragonfly wings and the brown parcel containing Sirius' mortar and pestle. "Get out," he hissed. "We don't sell to Dark Creatures. Ministry Regulation #251. I could have you arrested."

At this point in the conversation, Remus thought that if the little leathery creature didn't start speaking sense he would shake him. "The Ministry has regulations against the sale of items to certain people?" he inquired as if speaking to a very small child.

As he continued to back away from Remus, the goblin looked set howl again. "Not people. **Creatures**. Dark Creatures. Now leave before I call the task force!"

"I've got-look, here's my Order card-" Remus held out his membership card, the one thing that Highland had forgotten to take back after his dismissal.

The goblin stepped forward, and for a moment Remus released a sigh of relief, thinking that perhaps this was all a mistake. But fate had shuffled the cards differently, for no sooner had he placed it within his yellowed palm, the goblin began to shriek. "Imposter! Imposter! We've got an imposter!" Screaming, he pressed a small red button on the underside of the counter just as Remus lunged forward and shouted, "No! Don't!"

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"You tried to restrain a goblin...Goblin #45... from reporting you to the authorities?"

"You don't realize what was happening. I was confused-I didn't understand what was going on and I was only trying to stall..."

Once again red ink flowed from the quill.

"Please, sir, wait. You'll see I made no threats of the sort. I was only... apprehensive."

"Very well, you may continue."

"Well, as I was saying, the goblin had managed to press the red button before I could reach him..."

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~

Within seconds, a task force of Ministry officials apparated into the little shop sporting badges that read "The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Beasts" in big bold red print. "There!" the goblin howled, his finger pointed towards Remus.

All three men turned simultaneously to look at the beleaguered man. Strange faces-ones Remus had never seen before-stared at him from cold impassive, unforgiving eyes. The goblin who had managed to gather his wits about him stood stiffly, his stance formidable as he awaited the inevitable blow-out. Four times in the past week this had happened... although never before had it been a werewolf. Removing a yellow handkerchief from his little brown coat, he mopped at his face and waited.

"Gentlemen," Remus pleaded. "I assure you, this is all some type of misunderstanding."

A tall man in emerald green robes with a silver arm sash stepped forward. "Your identification card." Remus handed it over. The man stared at it awhile then motioned to his two teammates. A silencio charm was placed about their figures, and Remus crossed his arms, frustrated at not being able to hear what they were saying. A few minutes elapsed before all three men turned about to glare at Remus.

"You're a werewolf," the man holding the card bit out scathingly. "It clearly states that on your card, and yet you continue to defy strict Ministry regulations, flaunt our code of ethics and threaten a goblin?"

Remus was aghast. Licking his lips anxiously, he surmised the general strength of the three men and decided that fighting wasn't worth it. Besides, he had never possessed Sirius' brute strength, and if the Ministry officials were cautious-as they inevitably were for being such skittish fellows-these men would have been sent out into the field with protection devices to ward against all general type of curses. "Well, now no. That's not entirely accurate-"

"Are you saying you're **not** a werewolf?" he barked.

"No, no, I am a **registered** werewolf, and I most certainly did not threaten him!" The blackness of his pupils threatened to spill over into the yellow.

"Wilhelm," a shorter man stepped forward wearing the same green robes and carrying a wooden stake dangling from his neck instead of the sash. "Have a look at this."

Remus recognized his Order membership card. Swallowing, he scrambled about to find a possible explanation for still having this in his possession. He knew it had been wrong for him to have held on to it all this while-knew without a doubt that he had broken about a hundred rules of the Order and that once Highland heard of this he'd have to face a serious inquiry at the Ministry. It was still hard to become accustomed to the fact that the Order and the Ministry were in allegiance. For two years they had existed outside of each other, both furious at the antics of the other. In his humble opinion, the ridiculous self-made Minister Fudge had really botched the situation with his fervent denials of any possibility of Voldemort's resurrection. Of course it had all ultimately been proven to be a ruse, and it was with nary a tear of regret that Fudge had been carted off to Azkaban and Highland installed in his place. Remus, being the wise reflective man that he was, knew that in many minds it was construed that the war was all Fudge's fault.

"Do you know what the punishment is for this type of infraction?"

"Branding!" tittered the shorter man.

"Shut up Frank!" The third man's knuckles rapped Frank on the back of head. "You're such a fucking imbecile."

"Frank, Todd." Wilhelm held up his hand, not even bothering to look back at the bickering men. "This states that you're a member of the Order."

Remus stiffened. "I was one of the founding members of the Order. Dumbledore himself assigned me to this position."

Frank giggled, and suddenly Remus was struck at his close resemblance to Peter Pettigrew. Physiologically, he was slightly broader, but he had that same insipid expression Peter used to adopt whenever he was trying to be suave or important... and piggy little eyes that never seemed able to process a thought on their own volition. It bothered Remus at how easy it was to draw these comparisons, but time and fourteen years of longing had cured him of any lingering sentimentality toward the fourth Marauder.

"Highland would never have sanctioned your membership. Regulation #276," Wilhelm explained sternly. "It's all laid out in the Code Book. All Dark Creatures were to have turned in their cards prior to leaving the Ministry." He waved Remus' membership card under his face. "Can you explain why you still posses this?"

"Do you still execute Dark Creatures like me?" Remus challenged with a flash of spirit, refusing to answer his question. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed with smug satisfaction that if goblin's eyes were to widen any further they'd pop out of his head.

"We're not barbaric," Wilhelm returned stonily. "There hasn't been a legally sanctioned execution in over one hundred years."

Frank grinned maliciously. "It's branding time for you werewolf. You see those black detectors over the doors?" Remus' eyes lifted to the metal objects hovering in the air over the door, a little blue light beaming its rays across the room. "That there is a branding detector. Anyone who's branded will be picked up on the radar and a tracking report will be sent directly to the Department." He snapped his gum. "It's 'cause beasts like you can't be trusted."

Stunned, Remus flinched as the light hit his eyes, blinding him temporarily. Frank's green cloak now bore white polka dots.

"Aw... is the little tame werewolf going to cry?"

"You misunderstand my actions," Remus hissed, furious at his predicament. "I would never grant you the satisfaction."

At that moment, the bells above the door pealed as two customers entered, freezing as they took in the little assembly. The Ministry task force in their emerald green robes and creature killers turned at the disturbance, Frank shutting his mouth with a snap while Wilhelm glowered at the couple as if daring them to speak. Remus adapted a neutral pose his eyes shining brilliantly from within his white face. He didn't recognize the pair-a little old wizard and his wife-but he wasn't going to allow them to witness his humiliation. He hadn't spent years learning how to be brave only to falter in the face of this recent injustice.

"Can I go?" he asked quietly, his eyes darting to the goblin that had leaped back onto his stool and was chatting away with the couple.

Wilhelm removed a pad from his robes and scribbled something on the paper. Ripping off the sheet, he handed it to Remus with a final word of caution. "We're not going arrest you this time, but it's clear that you missed the de-briefing sessions held last week. This is the name of the woman responsible for assigning make- up session for Dark Creatures and shall serve as your pass to enter the Ministry."

**I can't even enter the Ministry without permission?**

Wilhelm continued in a low growling voice, "This is a serious charge the goblin brings against you and will have to be noted on your record." Todd had taken Remus' registration card and was busy scratching notes on a pad of his own. "I advise that you report to the Ministry tomorrow and that you read the Code Book very, very carefully. Frank, Todd! Let's go." Turning on his heel, he cocked his finger at his teammates. Frank's shoulders slouched in extreme disappointment as it appeared yet another branding had slipped through his fingers. With a loud pop the three men disapparated.

As Remus made his way to the front of the store, he was struck suddenly by the infinite look of satisfaction glittering from the goblin's beady eyes. Chilly tentacles of impassioned loathing shivered down his spine as he tipped his hat to the woman and exited the store, the black marble mortar and pestle swirled with blue abandoned on the counter.

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

The whole page was red.

"Hand me your form. It's getting late."

A stack of paper containing an itemized list of regulations was pushed roughly across the table.

"You haven't checked any of the boxes, Mr. Lupin. You are aware that we need written documentation of your cooperation."

"And that I'll never agree to, for I'll never sign away my rights as a human being."

"Your obstinate behavior leaves me with no choice for tonight. Guards!"

The metal chair stood empty.


	2. Part Two

Day 2 

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"Good morning. Did you sleep well? Coffee?" The stifling chamber seemed to swim with the smell of the dark muddy liquid.

"No... and no thank you."

"You understand that detaining you here last night was not my choice. I made it perfectly clear what the stipulations were and you chose to ignore them. The Department makes no exceptions for insubordination."

"What I **understand** is that the Ministry wants to be my puppet master and that by signing that decree my liberties are effectively eliminated."

A long pause lapped the room, each man daring the other to speak.

"Let's look at this, shall we? Order number one prohibits Dark Creatures from traveling out of the country without sponsorship. I don't see a check by this."

A sharp bark of laughter was his only response.

"For the love of-do you **want** to see you partner again?"

The threat hissed low in the room with serpent-like intensity, thick with exasperated anger.

"What have you done with Sirius Black?"

The anger-tinged voice backed off slightly as from within the other man the wolf began to pace, setting forth a menacing rhythm that radiated from golden eyes which shouldn't have been able to appear so cold. And although he knew it to be impossible, for the man-wolf's lips weren't moving, the solitary howl of the forest- creature seemed to permeate the thick walls of the cell, the sound winding itself about his frame with icy ferocity. "He's fine- however, that should not be your concern right now. Your livelihood rests in your hands, and if you want to end this separation then for Merlin's sake cooperate."

During this brief exchange, the quill had been sharpened by trembling hands and stood poised above a new stack of parchment ready to record every damning word.

"Well understandably, I was furious, so I left the store thinking that a bit of fresh air would clear my head..."

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~

Remus was livid. Absolutely fucking pissed off his rocker, spit on the ground, shrink Highland's manhood mad-and the cold air was doing little to alleviate his anger. Damn Highland, damn the Ministry, and damn the Order. He stormed down the sidewalk, past the garden window of the bed and breakfast where Jingle Bells continued to blare, and towards The Three Broomsticks.

Rubbing his arms through the wool of his robes he created a quick friction to ward off the swiftly falling temperature. As he passed the front of Zonko's, a young couple emerged, glowing with the internal brilliance of love and laughing softly at a shared secret. Their smiles quickly faded, however, into polite courtesy tinged with a hint of apprehension as a glimmer of recognition passed.

'It's just the after effects of the war,' he tried to reason, forcing himself to refrain from recoiling at the sting of their scrutiny. During the war no one had given a damn as to his condition since the fear of being killed by a Death Eater was far more tangible than being mauled by a werewolf. Still, it rankled at his soul how easily people were able to forget the past. Did he once in those three long years past harm anyone? Had he in fact **ever** threatened or inflicted bodily damage on another being? The tip of his boot scattered a dirty pile of snow. Never, and yet once again, everyone seemed to look upon him with a great deal of wariness... the scent of their fear very real and quite overpowering in his nostrils.

Shaking with shivers for it was really far too cold to be wandering about in the streets, Remus consulted his wristwatch. Deciding to get a head start on the Conley brothers, he wound his way past the rest of the pre-Christmas shopping crowd and entered the pub, glancing about with unconcerned eyes. And while he had been absolutely determined to shrug aside the unpleasantries of the afternoon, Remus couldn't help but gulp at the almost tangible shift in the atmosphere of the room.

The noise of the crowd seemed to shiver and shake with ill-suppressed tension as people leaned over like dominos to whisper hurried, unintelligible words into their neighbor's ear. Straining to hear what was being said, he could only make out snatches of words: drink, moon, restrictions, decree. Seriously exasperated, Remus crossed the room to the bar, noticing as he did the wide berth everyone made for him.

"Good evening, Madam Rosmerta," he said as pleasantly as possible.

"Remus," she greeted him nervously, her eyes twitching towards a sign on the mirror behind the bar. "How d'you do this afternoon?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit cold that is. And you?"

Her bright eyes flickered across the now completely silent crowd as she wiped down the counter. "I'm doing just fine, Remus."

His eyebrows bunched as he waited for her to take his drink order. After a rather lengthy awkward pause he requested hesitantly, "I'll take a pint of mulled mead, Rosmerta, if you please." At that moment, Remus would forever swear that if someone had dropped a sickle on the floor each individual rotation would have sounded as clearly and sweetly as the chiming of church bells. "Is there a problem?" he asked, a slight edge to his voice when she didn't move.

Turning, he glared at the crowd, his normally calm features morphing into a dark frown that would rival Severus Snape's on a bad day. "Is there a problem here?" he challenged, his words punctuating the air. "Take a good look okay? Are quite finished staring at me?"

A slight movement came from the back of the room as a man walked forward, his hands held up in the posture of surrender. "Take it easy now, Remus. No need to raise your voice and get your hackles up." He advanced past frozen patrons, wand raised, until he stood in front of the humiliated man, so close Remus could smell the cigar smoke on his breath. "Remus," his voice was placating and jovial at the same time, a temperament fraught with contradiction.

"Amos?" Remus' gaze darted from the wand up to his ruddy face and back down again. "What are you doing here?"

"It's okay," Amos Diggory reassured the patrons. His fat sausage fingers patted the air as if the gesture alone could calmly reassure through the still immobile crowd. "Go back to your business now. Everything's under control."

"What's under control?" Throwing an anxious glance of trepidation about the room, Remus sought out emerald green robes. "Amos, what's **happening**?"

Placing a reassuring hand on Remus' shoulder but keeping his wand pointed at his chest, Amos led Remus to a quiet corner, shooing away the couple sitting at the table. "Sit...please, Remus," he added. He rubbed his beard reflectively as Remus shrugged his hand from his shoulder and shot him a petulant look, sitting with exaggerated dignity in the chair Amos had pulled out.

"Remus... there's something you need to know. I don't know why you haven't heard of this yet." He twined his fingers in the scraggly hairs at his chin. "There's a new ordinance in place... oh dear, this really is unfortunate. I don't know **why** you didn't receive the missive. I'll have to have a serious talk with the administration at the Department. This is-"

Remus cut through the rambling impatiently. "Amos, what new ordinance?"

Amos leaned forward and fumbled about his pockets for his cigar. "The ordinance states that Dark Creatures can no longer drink in public establishments. Naturally werewolves are included."

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"How long have you been acquainted with Amos Diggory?"

"I had the privilege of teaching his son, Cedric, but aside from that I met him upon re-establishing myself with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Explain what you mean by re-establishing yourself."

"Because of my status as a werewolf, I had to inform the Department of my appointment with the Order, and it was then that I met Amos Diggory in the professional setting. This meeting took place three and a half years ago during Cornelius Fudge's tenure as Minister."

"And have you been on friendly terms with Amos Diggory?"

"We have not been on **unfriendly** terms. We simply happen to believe in different methods of reasoning and compromise. That's all. There is no animosity between us, if that is what you are suggesting."

"I'm just trying to establish the facts, Mr. Lupin. Please... as you were."

"Well, Amos had just informed me of this new ordinance..."

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~

"It took effect last week. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures wholeheartedly supports Highland's decision. In fact, we applaud that he's taken steps in this direction. Not-" Amos added hastily, feeling somewhat ashamed of his role in the matter, "that I don't believe you couldn't control yourself, but the other ones-the younger ones especially-don't have anything keeping them in check. It's all precautionary you see. If there was some way I could make an exception for you, I would, you know that. But once you bend the rules for one person you've got yourself a problem, and I for one don't want to have to face an inquisition with Highland about this."

Highland... always Highland. Amos dropped his cigar, his eyes shifting between the table and a spot just behind Remus' head. Not knowing what to do-and certainly at a loss for words-Remus sat frozen in his seat, feeling the stare of a hundred pairs of eyes as if he wore a placard bearing the words "Dangerous Blood-Ravishing Werewolf!"

"Rosmerta," Amos called, "bring me that decree." With a regretful air, Madam Rosmerta carefully removed the paper from the mirror and walked over to the table, her eyes fixed on her shoes to avoid meeting Remus' wounded stare. Propping his now lit cigar in the corner of his mouth, Amos pushed the paper across the table. "Read this, Lupin." he ordered gruffly.

Remus' eyes fell to the paper. He read the words slowly, processing them one by one, feeling the heavy weight of segregation land squarely on his shoulders. "It is hereby issued by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and endorsed by the Minister of Magic, Xavier Highland, Regulation # 176, that effective immediately creatures falling into the aforementioned categories may not be served alcohol in public establishments. Those who fail to follow this order can and will be punished by a fine of up to 10 galleons and a minimum stay of three nights at the Ministry prison or until detoxification is complete." At the top of the list were werewolves.

Amos cleared his throat. "Er... Remus?" In place of a response, glowing embers burned from a deathly white face, challenging in that non-confrontational way Remus had perfected over the years. His pallor caught Amos slightly off-guard. "Yes, alright then... Well, you can see that I have no choice but to insist that Rosmerta not serve you. Since you didn't know about this I won't charge you with an offense... this time," he finished lamely.

"You'd punish me for just asking?" Remus choked.

"Well," Amos shifted, discomfited. "In the narrow print it clearly states that even **asking** for a drink shows a willful disregard for the rules, and that's just not acceptable. You're a reasonable chap, Remus. Try to understand. You can always drink at home-where people are-where **you** will be safe."

The heat of the room was making Remus dizzy. This was a bloody nightmare. Trying to gather his wits about him and pointedly ignoring the hawk-like stares of fascinated curiosity coming from every occupant of the room, he managed to come to his feet, his knees knocking together so greatly that he wondered at his ability to stand at all. Humiliation coursed through his veins, but it was more than that really, for accompanying the humiliation was a very keen sense of pain-a deep sense of hurt that people he regarded as acquaintances or as friends in the case of Rosmerta were able to stare at him like a curious sort of specimen underneath a magnifying glass.

Unable to speak, Remus walked in a daze to the door, his eyes flickering towards Rosmerta who stood once again behind the bar, her eyes filled with sympathy and a strange look of wonderment. Unwilling to analyze the later and absolutely refusing to accept the former, Remus stared at her until she looked away. Mustering as much dignity as he could, he opened the door and walked out into the cold.

"Remus, wait!" He heard Mark's voice coming from just down the street, but his cheerful words didn't register, **couldn't** register. "Lupin! Where are you off to? What about our drink?"

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"And did you?"

"Did I what?"

" **Wait**. Did you wait to speak with your friends?"

"Sir, at the moment I had neither the desire nor the inclination to explain myself to anyone."

"I see here that several people at the pub have stepped forward to give testimony about your outburst."

"What outburst! That's hardly fair-I barely said a word-"

"But your presence as an unidentified werewolf leant itself to suspicion and frightened people. You must understand now why we monitor all behavior. People have had enough fear in their lives these past years. There is no need to make them feel unsafe now."

"Them! What about me and my fears, or have I been immune to the horrors all this time?"

"There is no need to become surly, Mr. Lupin. I can guarantee you that no one here wishes you any harm. We simply want to work with you to make you see the logic in our ways. The laws are here to protect both the innocent as well as Dark Creatures such as you."

"Can I finish?"

"By all means."

"So, at this point I had no gifts, I had been deprived of a drink and of the company of my friends, and everyone was staring at me as if I was going to transform into a ravishing beast straight on the street. So I turned to go home..."

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~

It was bitterly cold as Remus passed by houses alight with Christmas decorations. Curtains normally pulled shut against the prying eyes of the dark were pulled wide open in order to frame merrily dressed Christmas trees, and front porches adapted an air of vanity with twinkling fairy lights of red, green, and white.

Remus thought of his own decorations sitting in the front hall. Earlier in the day, in the spirit of the season, he had climbed up to the attic to pull down boxes filled with all sorts of items-lights, ornaments, candles, and a nativity set. Sirius' mother had been Catholic, and even though Remus hadn't been raised in that faith, he still found something beautiful about the symbolism of the Holy Family. The story gave him hope. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, he trudged down the lane, his footprints isolated markings in the freshly fallen snow.

God... he felt stupid. No...just miserable. Humiliated. Shunned, hated, ostracized, feared... Staring up into the sky, he pinched his eyes shut and released a tiny groan of hurt confusion. For the first time in years he wanted to cry a little-just a bit... surely that was acceptable. But then his mind, on its own accord, conjured up the vision of a poor pathetic werewolf crying on the streets, and he squared his shoulders against the despicable image, absolutely determined to not add fuel to the fire. He only knew one thing and that was he wanted to go home.

He could see their little house at the end of the lane, all the windows dark and shuttered. It was the only one on the street without any decorations, and it dawned on Remus that their house was a reflection of his spirits-a bleak thought indeed as Sirius was due to return home tonight and nothing had been prepared. The meal he had planned for the welcome home dinner wasn't purchased, and with the current state of affairs being as they were, Remus was certain he was probably prohibited from ordering groceries.

In a period of time that lasted less than an hour, all of his freedoms had been revoked by the order of a man the wizarding community looked upon as nothing less than a god. Even Sirius-his heart-believed Highland incapable of wrong doing. Of course Sirius wasn't aware of what had transpired this afternoon, but even equipped with the knowledge, Remus wondered if he would jump to Remus' defense or validate Highland's reasons. Remus wasn't certain anymore. It felt terrible to doubt the man he loved irrevocably and unconditionally and yet...

It was that niggling memory again... the image of Sirius weaving his fingers through Calvin's hair. Highland was an extremely attractive man-something that only added to his charms and skills as a warrior and diplomat. It hadn't skipped Remus' attention the way Sirius' eyes had lit with undisguised interest when Highland had been introduced to the Order by Albus Dumbledore, a family friend and personal advisor. Who could blame him? Highland had the looks of a man with impeccable blood-lines who had probably received his handsome features from Apollo himself. Remus had been present for the introductions, for he had still been part of the Order at that time, and the first thing that had caught his eyes was the gold spiral curls dusting Highland's chiseled cheekbones. There was something about Sirius and curls, Remus reckoned; and once again he touched his own inadequate straight grayish-brown locks... hair that had acquired its silver the day Sirius had been taken from him.

Spurned on by his jealously and fueled with impotent anger, Remus threw open the front gate and charged through the garden, his mind focused on only one goal. Taking in a deep breath, he tried to still his shaking hands. Opening the door, he entered the house, the temperature of the air within barely warmer than that of the outside as no fire had been lit to stave off the chill.

Knowing of other ways to get warm, Remus climbed atop one of the kitchen chairs to dig about the cabinets in search of a long forgotten bottle of firewhiskey. Neither he nor Sirius drank very often-Sirius preferring beverages that wouldn't interfere with his Order duties, whereas hot tea suited Remus' needs quite adequately. But one Christmas two years past had brought out the need for something stronger. It had been a time when the two of them stumbled home in the middle of war-torn Hogsmead to drown their sorrows over the deaths of several members of the Order. Sirius had torn about the old shed in search of a vintage bottle of firewhiskey belonging to his father, and that night the two of them had indulged their wounded souls, the fiery liquid acting as a temporary balm to jangled nerves. But in the morning the terror and destruction still existed... death reigned supreme and grief accosted them with the full force of anguish and of broken dreams tempered only slightly by a most powerful hangover. As they departed from the house, the half-empty bottle had been tucked away, never to be touched again... until now.

His hands finally fell upon the dusty bottle, and the fastidious man decided against the need for a glass as his consuming eagerness to drown away his sorrows overshadowed his need for cleanliness. He took several long swallows of the draught, choking at the unaccustomed burning as the liquid passed its way down his throat and into his stomach. Falling into one of the kitchen chairs, he decided to see how long it would take to finish off the bottle.

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"I... I don't recall what happened after this. My next memory is of waking up in my bed with a splintering headache and seeing my partner sitting in the chair next to me."

"Ah yes... well, we've asked Mr. Black for his account of the events that happened in that window of time. Shall I read them to you to perhaps refresh your memory?"

"You-you've spoken with Sirius?"

"Mr. Black has been waiting for you in the antechamber for the past two days, Mr. Lupin. Like the rest of us, he's been awaiting your cooperation in these matters. May I continue?"

"Of course... of course..."

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~

It was about five in the morning when Sirius finally apparated home, his eyes blurry with fatigue. He had tried several times to place a fire call, but the home fireplace had remained cold and unresponsive. Not quite sure what had happened, but absolutely certain that something had befallen Remus, Sirius had requested permission from Highland to leave early. The Minister, however, had been unmoved and was absolutely adamant that Sirius finish the task of shifting two hundred prisoners from the local Ministry holdings to Azkaban fortress. The greatly reduced numbers in the Order only meant more work for the remaining members, and in the beginning Sirius had pleaded with Highland to take Remus back-a request he had dared only make once, for the handsome Minister was not impressed by what he deemed to be a show of defiance by his right hand man. And since Sirius trusted Highland without question, he had never asked again... not even when a small skirmish had broken out amongst his twenty-five prisoners and he was nearly cut down by several Cruciatus Curses.

Thanks to Highland's calculated decisions and implacable drive, the last of the Death Eaters had been corralled and locked down that evening. Sirius glanced down at several new scratches on his wand-his **own** wand, restored to him by the Ministry who, for some reason, hadn't snapped it in two on the day of his sentencing. Absently stroking the surface grooves, he paused momentarily as he passed the kitchen. For a brief moment he thought he had heard the sound of snoring. Frowning, he walked cautiously into the kitchen and nearly jumped at the site that met his eyes.

"Oh, Moony... what have you done?" he whispered, placing his hands under Remus' arms and moving his head off the table. His fingertips lingered over a flushed cheek. As he shifted positions, Remus' head lolled about on his shoulders, his neck as useless as a rag-doll's. Sirius could smell the pungent odor of whiskey as it poured forth from Remus' pores. "C'mon, Moony," he said. "Wake up. You need to go to bed."

Remus groaned. He batted away the hands that gripped his armpits roughly, bemoaning the loss of the table. "G'way," he slurred.

"Remus, you're drunk," Sirius said, his voice sharp from exhaustion and concern. He tugged Remus to his feet, propping him up against his broad chest, one arm gripping his stomach, the other one drawn across his shoulders.

"I'm a beast ya know? I'm just a stupid fucking beast."

"What?"

"A beast... can't fucking drink in public... bloody Rosmerta and her stupid rules..." Remus head flopped forward on his chest.

Sirius jiggled him back upright. What the hell was Moony **on**? "Don't talk, Remus. C'mon, cooperate."

"No... like Dark Creatures... Amos said I should get drunk at home."

"Amos Diggory? Amos told you to get drunk?"

"Bingo." Remus' head shot up and hit Sirius in the jaw. Turning, Remus' strong breath caught the other man off guard as he smiled lopsidedly with eyes screwed shut. His words fell clumsily from parched lips. "I'm not so very drunk, Sirius. Gotta drink at home now. Could hurt someone-no, could hurt **myself**."

"Moony..."

Charging upright, Remus detached himself and pointed a finger at Sirius, wobbling about on his feet. "Don't call me... that... don't say that to me. Hate moon... hate Moony..." He burped. "And you..." His golden eyes were bright in the pallor of his face. "You like curls. Calvin's got curls." Burp. "Highland's got curls. You like, Sirius? Hum? Wolves don't have curls..."

Irritation replacing his concern, Sirius lunged forward and caught Remus just as his knees buckled, his head narrowly missing the corner of the table. "God, Remus... what have you done to yourself?" Hoisting him back to his feet, he made the wise decision to use magic to bring Remus up to bed. His arms were too tired to lift anything else tonight. Sighing, he floated Remus' prone figure up the stairs and into their bedroom. He removed Remus' cold damp clothes and folded the sheets up to his chin. "Damn," he muttered as he realized he had forgotten the warming charm.

Sitting in the chair next to the bed, his own weariness forgotten, he kept a silent vigil over the sleeping man, his mind trying without success to make sense of Remus' jumbled garb.

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"He did all that... for me?"

"Mr. Black is very concerned about your well-being. It is my understanding that he wants you to sign these papers, thus allowing the both of you to return home for Christmas. It's not too late, Mr. Lupin."

" **Never**. Sirius would never condone these machinations."

"Mr. Black operates on a very simple level; apprehend the wrong-doers and keep wizarding society safe. It's all rather simple, Mr. Lupin. We're even willing to overlook the branding clause-which, by the way, would have been put into effect immediately were your supporters not so adamant that this is all a misunderstanding. This is why we are giving you a second chance-a chance to prove them right."

"Who's here? Who knows about this?"

"Let me just consult this... ah yes... a Mr. Ronald Weasley, a Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Black, of course, Calvin and Mark Conley, and hmm... most peculiar. Interesting indeed... and a Mr. Harry Potter. Could this be-"

"One and the same."

"Well, they're all in the antechamber with your partner. I advise you to speed things up and consider the consequences of your actions."

"Alright... just let me... What I can recall next is waking up with a splintering headache..."

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~

Splintering pain screamed across Remus' temples as he opened his eyes to the full force of the morning sun, the result of neither man remembering to pull the shades over the windows which happened to face due east. Groaning, he tried to raise his hand to shield out the sunlight but his arm was too weak. "Water," he croaked to no one in particular, the words simply a reflex spilling from his lips.

"Moony." With surprising agility for a man who appeared to have not slept for several days, Sirius leapt from his chair and went quickly into the bathroom to retrieve a glass of water. Bending over, he gently lifted Remus' head and helped him to sip the cool liquid. Placing him back against the pillows he gently smoothed Remus' silvery tresses from his clammy forehead. "Moony, why did you **do** this? You never drink."

The concerned sound of Sirius' voice broke through the muddled haze enveloping his brain. **Ah Sirius... he must have put me up here... must thank him...** His dry throat worked furiously to form words. "Padfoot." **Sweet Merlin, when did I acquire the voice of a hag with laryngitis?**

"Remus, help me understand here... just tell me what happened to you yesterday. I tried calling you all afternoon to tell you I'd be late." When Remus didn't answer him, Sirius' control snapped. "What the hell do you think you were **doing** last night? You drank a whole goddamn bottle of firewhiskey!" Remus didn't move. "Goddamn it, Remus, I come home finding you completely pissed, and god knows what else. Think about what might have happened if I didn't make it home last night! You could have killed yourself!" Sirius stood and paced the length of the small room, the bright colors of Remus' old braided rug under his feet. Spinning about, he raised his wand and tapped Remus' head, muttering a quick sobering charm. "There. That should help. Now that you're conscious I want to tell me what the hell happened yesterday."

"Why were you late?" Remus whispered, wanting to avoid the whole conversation for the time being. Sobering charms took away the brute of the pain, but his head still pounded as if a pair of manacles was pinching his temples.

"Highland needed my help. I tried to leave when I couldn't reach you, but we had to get the prisoners to Azkaban."

Highland... always Highland. It wasn't until Sirius snapped, "What?" that Remus realized he had spoken aloud. Realizing the futility of staying quiet, he braved the light and looked at Sirius through bloodshot eyes. "It's always about Highland now."

"You're being ridiculous, Remus."

"No, I'm not," he answered quietly. He held up his right hand. "Look at this."

Sirius scowled. He was in no mood for games. Crossing back to the bed, he gritted his teeth against a retort struggling to escape. His eyes narrowed at the site of a raw oblong burn on the palm of Remus' hand. "How'd you do that?"

Smiling bitterly, Remus laid his hand back on the sheet, out from Sirius' reach. "An owl came last night. I made the mistake of taking the mail. **The mail, Sirius**. Someone sent us a bloody package made of silver." Sirius's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He reached for Remus' hand, but Remus anticipated his move and jerked away. "I didn't read it-couldn't actually. But it's addressed to you. It's on the table."

The sound of Sirius' footsteps thundering down the stairs accompanied by a long drawn-out, "Fu-uuck..." brought a grim smile of satisfaction to his face. He wasn't vindictive by nature-the complete opposite actually-but something happened after last night- something small snapped within his heart, and suddenly he found himself capable of being mean. It was a rather disconcerting feeling, but at the same time, Remus felt almost comforted by it. With a groan, he covered his eyes and yelped as the raw skin made contact with his face.

"Well?" he asked as Sirius reentered the room, his face blank.

"It's an invitation. To the Ministry's Christmas gala..." Sirius said slowly, his eyes scanning Remus' face. The sinking feeling in the pit of Remus' stomach that had come when he had first guessed what was in the container hit him again. Sirius' silence spoke all the words Remus needed to know, and as the vilified man processed their meaning, his mate stood still, hands motionless.

"We won't go."

"It's just a party, Sirius, a celebration of sorts. You have to go. Highland probably expects you. You're his right hand man after all."

Sirius shook his head. "Remus..."

"No," Remus repeated firmly, his eyes smarting. "Tell them you'll go, Sirius. It's a delicate situation. You don't want to make the wrong people angry." Following Sirius' worried stare, Remus looked at his hand and said dismissively, "It'll heal. It didn't break the skin so there's no damage."

Nodding brusquely, Sirius sat back down in the chair next to the bed and kicked off his boots. "I'm on leave for the rest of the week." He leaned down to peel off sodden socks that smelled of a peculiar kind of swamp moss. "Tell me something, Remus, what did you mean when you said it's always about Highland?" He looked up at the man on the bed. "What's always about Highland?"

Remus appraised him silently, the Ministry gala forgotten for the moment. "You look tired," he replied quietly.

Shadows circled Sirius' eyes as he rubbed his stiff hands. "Moony," he said with undisguised warning.

"I've found the perfect tree for us, Padfoot."

"Yeah?" A sweat-stained shirt joined the pile of socks and boots on the floor.

"It's across the way, next to the Glover House," he continued, unfolding and refolding the sheets. The fact that he was nervous surprised him somewhat. "Tall-but not too tall, so don't you go and mangle it this year. Christmas trees are supposed to have pointed tops, Padfoot. I was thinking we could cut down it tomorrow. I just need to de-rust the old saw," he said with a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What do you say? The Order's really letting you take the rest of the week off?"

Sirius peered at Remus through the dusty rays of sunshine. It was odd to hear him speak so lightly of the Order. "Yes."

It grew very still in the bedroom. The old clock on the mantle place ticked off another minute of life as Remus re-hydrated his parched throat and the two men avoided the difficult questions.

"Sirius-"

"Remus-"

Sirius smiled a strange twisted sort of smile. "You first."

Remus tangled his thumb and forefinger around his cup. "How did it go yesterday?"

Sighing heavily, Sirius leaned backwards in his chair and rubbed a hand across his jaw. "It was horrible, Moony. We corralled them all morning-my arm's sore from all the binding spells-and in the end it was just tragic. There's no pleasure to gain from watching prisoners parade across the room-watching Highland snap their wands in half and throw the pieces into the fire. Did you know that when a broken wand is burned it sends up sparks of color corresponding to the material in the core?" Remus shook his head. He hadn't known. "Yeah... well it's the ultimate sign of having your powers taken away. Two hundred wands, Moony... that's the end of them."

But Remus wasn't sure how accurate that assessment was. He knew that the Order thought all the dark wizards and witches had been arraigned and found guilty, but a part of him sensed that the hunt was far from over. The actual fighting itself was finished, but the misery, the fear, the doubt... all of those remained, and they weren't just traces of memories. The green tinge lighting the sky was a constant reminder of that.

"And... Peter?" he asked finally.

"Yeah... Peter was there. Heavily guarded and sedated. He didn't even know what was happening." And the men left it at that. Never again would Peter Pettigrew's name find its way into their conversation, for with the finality of the breaking of his wand came the blessed relief that he was at last but a memory in the past. A troubled shadow that occasionally darted across their brains when deep in sleep and at the will of the dream master, but that was it... a tangible presence never to be felt again, a soul lost for all eternity.

"Highland's a good Minister, you know," Sirius continued, his voice charged with excitement. A deep frown spread across Remus' face. "He despises insurrection of any sort and that makes him just the type of man we need right now. I think it was the wisest choice they could have made considering the circumstances."

"Considering that Cornelius Fudge was apprehended at a Death Eater's meeting, you mean?"

"Yeah... Highland was the obvious choice, I suppose, seeing that he was leader of the Order-"

"A position that was rightly yours or mine, Sirius," Remus interrupted angrily.

Sirius raised his eyebrows slightly. "C'mon now, Remus, let's not start that again."

"Why not?" Remus muttered grumpily. "We never finished discussing it."

Ignoring the other man's aside, Sirius draped his arm limply across the back of the chair. "Highland's a remarkable man, Remus. Two hundred Death Eaters arrested in five days is no small feat. It's not going to be easy for him-you realize that, don't you? The whole Ministry's a mess. It's been dying for someone like Highland to step forward and change things. Besides, he's an old comrade of Dumbledore's. That in itself is something remarkable. For once Dumbledore's not pitted against the Ministry."

"Well, if he's so remarkable, this Highland of yours, why the hell did he revoke my privileges as a member of the Order? I was one of the **first original members**." Remus' hands shook as he once again failed to comprehend how in the hell Sirius could look upon this man with this perverted type of hero-worship.

"Calm down, Moony. It's not that simple. Highland's just looking out for the betterment of the Order. A couple of the fellows-key members-voiced a problem with working with a... werewolf... and this seemed the only solution." Wary of the glare being bored into his forehead, a glare that usually acted as a premonition of sorts, Sirius hastened to add, "Look at it this way, Moony it was ten guys to one. It's just for a little while," he wheedled, "I'm sure after everything calms down you'll get your badge back."

Remus stared at him in stunned disbelief. Could this be **Sirius** speaking? His mouth hung open as words failed him. Sirius who prided himself as being intolerant of bigotry, Sirius who punched countless wizards for casting slurs at his lover for being a werewolf, Sirius who hated everything to do with the Ministry-this was the same man who was telling him that the Ministry was looking out for the betterment of the other members? Members who, in his recollection, had **never** had a problem with his being a werewolf?

"Remus?" Sirius asked tremulously, reaching out a hand that was shaky with strain.

Remus jerked back and looked at him through hurt eyes. "I don't think I know who you are anymore," his voice shook with an undefined emotion-one part anguish, another part rage. "I was part of this mission. I corralled twenty Death Eaters and sent them to the holding. I risked my life for these men, **our teammates** , never once asking for anything in return. If they had a problem with me-if they were at all uncomfortable being in my presence-I would have known, Sirius. I don't have a werewolf's sense of smell for nothing," he said bitterly, smashing a hand over Sirius' mouth when he tried to speak. "Listen to me, Sirius Black, I don't know what kind of fucked up hero worship you have going on up there in that head of yours, nor do I know what Highland told you to convince you that his actions were just. I helped found the Order. I refrained from making an issue out this just this once because I understood the importance of the mission. You can't ask me to do that again."

He slowly peeled his fingers from Sirius' warm mouth, cursing himself for noticing how soft his lips were when he had tried to protest.

"I'm not asking you to, Remus," Sirius replied quietly.

Remus turned his head away and jerked the liquid about in his cup. He recognized the emotions, a combination of wounded pride and a strong sense of injustice overlaid with the stupidity of Sirius' words... and **what** was it that Sirius was saying?

"It's just that sometimes in situations like these-when so much is at stake, that maybe... maybe it's best to swallow your pride and do something for the greater good. Remus," Sirius reasoned, "Highland's decision meant that ten men- **ten** , Remus-remained on the team. We never would have been able to tackle the opposition so effectively if they had left."

"Then **you** should have left! You should have stood up for me! It's something Dumbledore would have done. It's just another charade of his-"

"Whose?" Sirius countered, angry at what Remus' words implied. "Highland's? Highland doesn't have a personal vendetta against you Remus. He doesn't give a damn that you're a werewolf. It was the others, and for once I agree with him. If I had broken away-let's say I did what you asked-we would have been outnumbered and completely ineffective! Think of the lives you saved by staying silent about this, Remus. Now is not the time to wallow in self- pity!"

Always Highland... it always came back to that damn new Minister of Magic. This despicable man who thrilled witch and wizard alike with his promises of triumph and who had so far managed to make good on them. It wasn't that Remus wanted him to fail... not when the very humanity of the world was at stake... but still... Highland had the power to make life very uncomfortable for him, and foolish people like Sirius seemed almost blinded by his aura.

Remus watched as Sirius glowered up at him from exhausted red rimmed eyes. "It's about trust, Sirius. Highland has made it very clear that he doesn't trust **creatures like me**." He fell silent, waiting for a response from Sirius. "It appears that he's convinced you of the same."

"Hold on there a minute, Remus. I never said I didn't trust you-"

"No, but you said that it was best for me to stay silent, and in my mind that means you didn't trust me to come up with an alternative solution-one that might have worked for all of us. You jump about him, prancing at his heels, thinking he's invincible or some type of god. And here I stand... told to be silent... informed that my pride as a man means naught... and it does mean something. My humanity is all that I have to separate myself from the beasts."

Sirius glared at him. "You don't think I know that? You don't think I understand what you go through?"

"Can you really **truly** understand?"

"What is this all about, Moony?" Sirius rubbed at his eyelids. "I haven't seen you in over seven months and you want to have a theoretical debate with me? God...can't you just say I love you?"

"I love you... I do. You know that." Remus' voice was rough as he recalled suddenly how very **very** much he had missed Sirius, but still... "Come sit," he said resignedly, patting the spot next to his leg. "I need to tell you something." Clad only in a pair of drawers, Sirius crawled up on the bed and under the covers Remus had flipped aside. It didn't escape Remus' attention that Sirius didn't even blink an eye at his state of nakedness. Sirius **did** look exhausted. "I ran into Amos Diggory yesterday... check that," Remus paused, calculating his words carefully. "It started with a gift for you. I went to buy you a new mortar and pestle-"

"You bought me a new mortar and pestle?"

Remus shrugged dismissively. "You said yours was ruined. I wanted to surprise you. Did you know goblins have been installed as the new management at Dervish and Banges?" Sirius' mouth made a small "o" and Remus proceeded to tell him the events of yesterday afternoon, sparing not even the smallest of details.

"About Wilhelm..." Remus said tentatively, apprehensive at bringing up the very name that had caused Sirius to shatter a glass vase and a very good lamp shade. "I have to meet this woman at Amos' Department this afternoon. Will you come with me?"

"As if anything could keep me away," Sirius mumbled, his hands still clenched in fists. "But Moony, this doesn't make sense. Highland hates everything this war has stood for. The intolerance, the practicing of dark magic, the hatred. It doesn't make sense that he would single you out."

"Not me. It's everything associated with Dark Creatures that he's targeting. We're synonymous with evil in his mind, and I figure there are a million people out there that think the same." His quiet voice held no recrimination, no hatred, just an infinite amount of sadness that caressed his words like tears.

Sirius stood to refill the water glass. Through the open door, Remus watched as he splashed water on his stubble-covered face. How exhausted Sirius looked. With a twinge of guilt, Remus realized that he was in no shape to even cook his mate a meal. A small weary sigh escaped his lips as he observed the way Sirius picked at what appeared to be a fresh scar.

"Moony," Sirius' voice sounded irritable, "Highland's not that complex. He sees evil and he formulates a plan to banish it. If he truly saw you as evil incarnate than he'd have you wiped out-not branded." He picked up his toothbrush and spread toothpaste on the bristles. Brushing furiously, he entered the bedroom and handed Remus the water.

Remus peered at Sirius closely before asking his next question. "So, do you think what that he's done so far is right then?" He looked pointedly at the shattered lampshade and pushed the blankets aside. Two long feet dangled from the side of the bed, the toes on the right reaching tentatively to touch the cold floorboards. "Sirius," he said crossly, his head cocked to one side as the unmistakable sounds of spitting came from the bathroom.

Emerging from the bathroom, Sirius ran a soft white towel across his face, the expression in his eyes carefully masked. He folded the moist cloth and laid it on the dresser, pulling open drawers to tug out clean clothes. "If you have to ask me that question, Remus, than you don't know me very well."

With a pile of clean clothes in his arms, Sirius crossed back to the bathroom and shut the door. It was the first time ever that he didn't change in front of his mate, and it was on the tip of Remus' tongue to point out the fact. But something silenced him... something in Sirius' attitude made him wary, and for that reason, he said not a word as he pulled on his own clothes over a set of clean underwear. First a soft angora wool sweater followed by a pair of dark gray wool trousers with faint lines of a lighter shade running vertically along the legs. Neither the sweater nor the trousers had been gifts from Sirius as most of his clothes were, but instead had been purchased with one of his first paychecks as a member of the Order. Almost defiantly, he glanced quickly in mirror and ignored the cackles reminding him of his wasted looks. After a quick run through with a comb, he ran down the stairs, a pair of socks in hand.

~~~~ Present Day ~~~~

"And this is when you left?"

"I just needed to breathe... I felt so constricted being in the same house with him..."

"It seems as if you've done a considerable amount of running in your life."

"That's hardly a fair accusation. In the past I **have** run from situations... but only those that have proved so untenable that I needed some space. Like now..."

"And had you been planning at this point to keep the appointment with Amos Diggory's Department? Tsk... well, judging from your guilty expression I'll have to note the answer as no. You realize the seriousness of your actions, don't you? You frightened several small children, you weren't carrying your identification card, in the past twenty-four hours you have broken several Ministry rules, and you were making a public spectacle out of yourself!"

"Oh-so now there is an order that restricts when and where I might cry or yell?"

"Mr. Lupin, you are hardly a normal human being. Extreme displays of emotions hint at possible emotional instability and ordinary people aren't prepared to deal with such forward displays... they have neither the education nor the experience to separate the dangerous from the unpleasant."

"And that's it? Those are the charges you bring against me? This whole time I've been sitting here... this entire episode might have been prevented if you had simply told me this up front! I apologize from the bottom of my heart for frightening those children- I didn't realize children would be scared of a man pacing in his own garden. And as for the rest, I think I have certainly explained my position!"

"Mr. Lupin! Kindly lower your voice. A little decorum if you please. This inquiry is **not** solely a matter of your recent infractions but more about the fact that you continue to refuse to sigh this form. Even without the former you still would not have been released. We require your full cooperation-nothing less."

"And if I don't?"

"If you refuse to cooperate, Mr. Lupin, we will have no choice but to hold you here indefinitely. Only, and I stress **only** , when you have signed this form checking off **every single** clause will you be released."

"I-"

"Mr. Lupin, your recalcitrant behavior astonishes me. I would have assumed that as a former professor you would understand the necessity of such precautions-a former professor of **Defense against the Dark Arts** especially. I grow weary of these games, Mr. Lupin, and am seriously considering postponing our next meeting until after the holidays!"

It was as if his words created a cyclone of images that swirled about unbidden in his mind-images of the students in his classes, throats dripping with blood ... a howling wolf baying in anguish at the cold, unforgiving moon-round and full in its devious splendor... a small child chasing a ethereal fairy through the trees... and a man-a dark haired man sitting alone on the floor in front of an extinguished fire, silent tears falling unchecked to collect in pools on hard floorboards. His resolve breaking, Remus summoned the entirety of his courage and reached for the form. With trembling lip, he began to read each barbed-edged word aloud:

"Order prohibiting Dark Creatures from traveling out of the country without sponsorship." Check! "Order prohibiting establishments from serving alcoholic beverages to Dark Creatures." Check! "Order prohibiting the attendance of Dark Creatures at any public event where alcohol is served." Check! "Order prohibiting Dark Creatures from being out past curfew." Check! "Order prohibiting the unauthorized apparation of Dark Creatures into Ministry-zoned establishments." Check! "Order necessitating the use of assigned seals to all signatures." Check! "Order prohibiting the sale of certain potion ingredients to Dark Creatures." Check! "Order restricting the brewing of Wolfsbane to authorized dealers- none of which shall be werewolves themselves." Check! "Order restricting the employment of Dark Creatures at schools, universities, hospitals and any establishment that serves the needs of children." Check! "Order that all Dark Creatures shall be branded with a number that will monitor their whereabouts at all times by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Check!

And on and on the list continued... page after page fell into his lap as he checked off each damning order, the edge of the freshly sharpened quill slicing into the parchment. There were more than two hundred orders total, and at the end of it all, when Remus laid the quill on the table, there were really no more words left to be said.

"I've lost... I've lost myself..." he whispered, the words heard only by his own ears, for the man sitting before him smugly tucking away the parchment had ceased to listen.

"Very well, Mr. Lupin. You are excused. There is a small matter regarding your bail, but I am assuming that Mr. Black-"

The door of the chamber, which had been unlocked the entire time, slammed shut on his words.


	3. Part Three

Day 2 Continued

Downstairs in the atrium of the old museum turned Ministry prison Remus paced the scarred marble floor. The air seemed to crackle with tension as Sirius spoke in hushed tones with the bailiff. Money was quickly exchanged as an untidy black scrawl was added to the bottom of a thick ledger. Turning away before they caught him watching, Remus listened as the heels of Sirius' boots clicked against the floor. Acknowledging Sirius' ominous pause, Remus lifted his shoulders and moved to leave the building. The children and the Conley brothers had left per Sirius' instructions a few hours earlier much to the disgruntlement of Harry who had wanted to wait until Remus was released.

"A moment, Mr. Lupin." The scraggly little bailiff with the too short pants ran across the length of the room, a bright yellow piece of paper in his hand. "You've forgotten your new registration card."

Remus stared at the paper. With slow precision, he extended two fingers, picked the offending object up by its corner and tugged. The bailiff dropped his hand and glanced skittishly at Sirius.

"Come on, Remus. Let's go."

Ignoring his hand, Remus swept past Sirius with eyes focused on the white-yellow brilliancy of the sun. Desperate to forestall the unavoidable exchange of words, he broke into a smooth run, dodging past businessmen and shoppers in his haste to reach the nearest apparation port. **Two more blocks** , he thought, his long lean legs stretching effortlessly across the pavement. The roar of shouting behind him was but a burst of white noise as he dodged through a throng of wizards dressed in emerald green robes. **One block**... his lungs expanded with ease to take in more oxygen.

At last he reached the red telephone booth. To his disgust there was a queue fifteen deep as people waited impatiently for their turn at the apparation port. Because of post-war Ministry regulations, apparation could only be conducted by means of using sanctioned apparation ports, and any use of personal apparation was deemed illegal and punishable by a fine. Cursing Highland and Voldemort in that order, Remus ducked under a nearby eave to wait for the line to shorten. Using his extremely sensitive lupine hearing, he tried to distinguish the sound of Sirius' boots from the muted shuffling of the many feet running past, but his mind played tricks on him as in one moment he thought he heard the distinct clicking of his metal sole but in another instance the sound was gone.

Sighing with frustration, Remus leaned back against the brick wall, the deep-set cold numbing his shoulder blades. He closed his eyelids for a moment to ruminate over Sirius' final words... the words that had sent him reeling from the house. He wasn't really surprised that Sirius had shown up, for he had actually expected Highland to send Sirius to the prison. Highland who had insisted on Remus' resignation and then had the audacity to pat him on the back and thank him for a job well done.

"You signed them didn't you, Remus?"

Remus' eyes shot open with surprise. Sirius stood in front of him blocking out the sun, arms crossed. A cold indolent _expression fell over Remus' face as he tried without success to shove past his blocker. "Get out of my way," he gritted, his cold hands pushing against his solid frame.

Warm hands grabbed cold ones and squeezed almost painfully. "I come home to find you drunk, Moony, and then the very next day you dodge out on me when I'm in the shower to come to London on your own. You were supposed to wait for me, Moony! And now this..." The bright blueness of Sirius' eyes was brilliant with unrepressed anger and something akin to hurt. "Do you know how absolutely panicked I was when I couldn't find you? When Diggory's Department said you hadn't shown up? Anything could have happened to you, Remus! You can't play games in times like this! Nothing's safe!"

"What do you mean by that?" Remus asked irritated.

Releasing one of his hands, Sirius ran his fingers through his wild hair. Deep purple-black shadows circled his eyes as he shoved Remus back against the wall. "Some of the Death Eaters escaped under one of the Order's watch last night. Four of them are on the loose and we think they've escaped to the continent."

Remus' eyes widened with horror at the thought of those creatures roaming about in a quest for power, fueled by hatred. "You don't say... whose watch?" Biting his lower lip, he knew he needn't have asked. Guilt was written all over Sirius' features. "Not ... yours?" he asked in disbelief, a part of him needing to hear his denial no matter how small the possibility.

"No, not mine. It was Highland's. And you can't breathe a word of this, Remus," Sirius hands were rough on the other man's shoulders, shoulders that shook with unashamed relief. "I should have been there to help him, but instead I was running about tracking you down like a recalcitrant child. Highland was nearly killed, Remus! The word is that Fletcher and Figg got there just in time to pull Highland out, but that the Death Eaters had already escaped. The best of our people and the leaders from the Auror division are back out in the field instead of being with their families, and Highland's up at St. Mungo's. No one knows he's there-wards have been set up, and we've selected a person to stand in his place using polyjuice."

Swallowing against the unaccustomed guilt accosting his throat where Highland was concerned, Remus moved to touch Sirius' shoulder hesitantly. "And you're still here," he muttered. "Go help him." Forgetting for a moment the dreadful events of the past two days and the accompanying ridiculous jealously that had lead him to his point, he tried to focus solely on the all too familiar expression of self-loathing passing over Sirius' features. "Don't," he warned, shaking his head firmly. "You can't compare this to what happened with James and Lily. If there is anyone to blame, it's me. For being stupid and jealous and angry at the world," he paused noting with a sigh the surprise that flitted across Sirius' eyes at his mention of jealousy. He hurried to continue before Sirius could speak: "Listen to me, Sirius, what is happening to me can wait for the moment. It's not important right now. Highland's situation is vital for our existence. I don't even know who it is that escaped, but I do know that not all Dark Creatures can be trusted and that, yes indeed, many of them will jump at whatever opportunity is presented to them. I don't condone what has happened at the Ministry- but I do understand what it feels like to be frightened. And I cannot forget that at one time, **I was bitten** , Sirius."

Remus' words were strange in Sirius' ears... little bits of phrases that jabbed in just the right places... and slowly he managed to push aside his guilt over Highland's falling to focus on the man who stood before him-stoic and brave-and guilt-ridden. It had been months since he had been able to just hold him next to his skin, to feel the sensation of flesh pressed against flesh, to know that somewhere deep inside both men hearts were pounding with the same cadence. The rhythm of his world didn't function properly without the strength of this man in front of him as its center.

"You were jealous?" Wanting to smack his forehead for asking such a ridiculous question after Remus had just bared his soul and laid down his pride for the trampling, Sirius could only manage a half-smile to temper the insensitivity of his words.

"Well... initially I had thought that perhaps the reason you took so long to post bail was because you... werewithCalvin." The last words were expelled in a rush of air, and Remus quickly looked away, pretending to be fascinated with the way spiders could so easily cling to the side of walls without toppling over. "I figured if Highland wanted to get word to you about my arrest he wouldn't have any difficulties tracking you down at the house-unless you **weren't** at the house. And in your last letter you had mentioned how much you looked forward to seeing Calvin again..."

For a moment Remus thought he had rendered Sirius completely speechless-an impressive feat indeed, but one which made him decidedly uncomfortable. His hands trembled as he pulled them from Sirius' now limp grip and tucked them into the deep pockets of his robes. Agitatedly, Remus curled his fingers against the smooth column of his wand. "Well, say something," he spoke at last, unable to endure another minute of Sirius' silence.

"Calvin? Calvin Conley?" Sirius sputtered, disbelief etching its way into his features. Licking his lips nervously, Sirius carefully backed up a step. "You think I fancy Calvin? Now's not really the time..."

Furious with himself for dredging up old memories, Remus sighed resignedly and pressed forward. Now that this was out in the open, there was no way in hell he was pushing it back inside to fester for another twenty-four years. He had never been particularly courageous-it had taken years before he had even been able to acknowledge in the privy of his own heart the true meaning of the looks pouring from the other boy's eyes back in their third year. And then it had taken him another six months and an entire summer of longing and loneliness to admit that he cared for him in return. So he knew, now that he had spoken the fear that had gripped his heart for the past few days with such ferocity, he could only continue. "Your hand. It was your hand-the hand that should have only touched me-was touching him. Your fingers were threaded through his hair." His voice sounded frantic and irrational even to his own ears, but he was beyond carrying.

"My wh-aaat?" Sirius quickly closed the space between the two of them.

"Your hands! We had only just pledged our love when I found you touching him..."

Puzzled, Sirius scanned Remus' face for an explanation for this tirade. "Moony... that-that had to have been years ago. I can't recall-"

"Fifth year. Before examinations. Just before Christmas. I was coming back from the library and you didn't see me, but I saw you-quite clearly, Sirius, and there was this look in your eyes..." Remus found that he couldn't embellish further.

"Calvin..."

"Yes! Calvin. And you can't deny that you aren't attracted to him, for I've seen the way you've looked at him-even now the way your eyes follow him when you don't think I am watching."

"If I've ever looked at Calvin in a way that is beyond that of a normal friend, that would be because he was the only person- the only one-who believed in my innocence." Sirius' words lashed out against the cold air. Continuing fervently, Sirius rocked back on his heels and regarded Remus with a look of disbelief. "Even you hated me. You weren't able to separate your hatred from your love. But Calvin didn't have my love to sustain him. He only had faith. And if I've ever look at him now it's because I owe him so much more than I'll ever be able to repay."

Unsure if it were tears that made Sirius' eyes bright or all the pent up frustration, Remus reached out to touch Sirius' cheek, flinching as the other man drew away. With an air of resignation at his inability to read his thoughts, he dropped his hands to his side and fell against the wall, smashing the spider. "It wasn't just that," he whispered, "but my own insecurities. Calvin is..."

"And what is it that Calvin Conley is exactly?" Sirius' words were harsh as they whipped through the electric air.

"He's perfect! You don't see him carrying papers," Remus' hand gripped the yellow sheet carefully tucked in his pocket. "He's a man... a **human man**. The kind of person Highland loves. Like you..."

"And you're my Moony..." Sirius' expression was exasperated as he jerked Remus in an embrace that stole his breath away. "You're mine...and I don't **ever** want you to be someone different. By no other name than your own could I love you..." he whispered against the tawny locks. "You're as complete of a man as I am Remus... more so for you are far more generous than I could ever be."

Mine...mine...mine... the words poured over Remus with the force of molten lava, hot, forceful, and completely without will to be stopped. He pressed his cool lips up the mouth that continued to whisper "mine" and moved them slightly to warm them with the friction of Sirius' breath. "I love you," his words came out hitched with a repressed sob.

"And I can't honestly remember touching Calvin's hair... although if I did it was probably to comment on those ridiculous curls of his," Sirius joked, reveling in the warmth of Remus' cheek pressed to his. Long fingers reached up to thread themselves in the gorgeous silver butterscotch locks of the amazing man shuddering in his arms. "I love **your** hair, Moony..."

Remus smiled against the collar of Sirius' robes... a relieved _expression trembling with pure happiness, for the other man had given him a most precious gift with his words. His long festering jealousy towards Calvin began to slowly dissipate as Sirius continued to hold him tightly. He carefully shifted positions so that his own arms could wrap around strong shoulders, and he tilted his head back to memorize his loved one's face. "Please, Siri," his words a caress, "go to Highland. He needs you now. I'll be fine," he reassured him firmly as Sirius hesitated. "Go now," he prodded, "I've Christmas preparations to attend to. Just come back as soon as you can. Floo me if you're able."

Laughing lightly, Sirius cuffed Remus on the head. "I'll let you know where I am. I love you." With a final fond look that thrilled Remus to the bottom of his heart, he ran to the telephone booth, pushing forward to the front of the line with his Order badge brandished high in the air. Remus laughed-how Sirius liked to show off.

With eyes that burned suspiciously, Remus watched until the doors closed. "Be careful, Padfoot," he whispered within his heart.

++++++++++++++

On the eve before Christmas as Remus stood in the front room placing the last of the ornaments on the tree he had cut down, the tree he had found earlier that week, he was appalled to realize how depressing all his thoughts for the past few hours had been- thoughts of dead family members, of friends absent from his life so long that he almost forgotten what their voices sounded like, and of true happiness-a sensation sometimes frighteningly absent from his heart. Standing back to survey his handiwork, he narrowed his eyes at the cheeky little star perched a top the tree, threatening to break free and join his brethren outside the window. The star had been a gift from Harry two Christmases past as a sort of joke, but Remus had developed in an instantaneous fondness for the little faux- silver star and insisted that it takes its place of honor on the tree. A faint smile graced his lips as he cocked his head to the side and surveyed the perfectly pointed top. **Finally, a symmetrical tree** , he breathed in relief.

Two hours later the boxes had been banished to the attic, not to be retrieved until after the full twelve days of Christmas were celebrated, and a small mound of presents lay piled underneath the tree. Unwilling to subject himself to further torment by another shopping venture, Remus had scrounged about the house searching for odds and ends, compiling and constructing whatever homemade presents came to mind. The children, for he couldn't yet think of them differently despite how horribly fast they had had to mature over the past three years, were due to arrive tomorrow morning, and Remus wanted to make sure there were gifts for everyone. In the spirit a la Mrs. Weasley, he had cooked up a storm, and it was with no small amount of satisfaction that he surveyed the sideboard laden with delectable mouth-watering treats.

His eyes fell back to the gifts, and he wondered ruefully if Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny would be put out with his wrapping paper selection, for their old third and second year examinations had been the only thing available. Hermione, he reflected, would probably be quite pleased with the blatant reminder of her mid-year perfect score. Harry and Ron, on the other hand, and Ginny to a certain extent, would probably cause him to be on the receiving end of three very baleful looks for reminding them of their less than perfect grades. Chuckling, Remus decided the looks on their faces would be worth it.

Sirius' gift sat to the side, a splash of cardinal red against the soft white sheet covering the base of the tree. He had found an old ratty shirt, his first gift ever from Sirius, and had meticulously cut out the sleeves and collar to form a type of wrapping. Enclosed within the folds of fabric was a scroll containing the painstakingly copied vows they had spoken on Lupercalia twenty years ago. Sentimentality of this type had been rare these past three years, and by writing down the very words that had bound the two of them for eternity, Remus desperately hoped to make Sirius break into that gorgeous full-face experience he called a smile.

As he stood looking out the window panes at the little mounds of snow on the windowsill and at the way the floating snowflakes brought to mind the blowing of dandelion puffs, he was reminded of his tea and turned to walk into the kitchen. Crossing through the doorway, he stopped short and released a small gasp, for standing in the center of the room was his mate.

"When..."

"He's dead... he was gone when I arrived."

"Oh Sirius..." The anguish in Sirius' voice stabbed at Remus' resolve to hate the man who was responsible for his recent misery. "They beat him-the MediWizards said they could hardly recognize his face. I wouldn't even wish that on Snape," he choked. It dawned on Remus that the sound of Sirius trying to make a joke was just about the saddest thing he had ever heard. The muscle in Sirius' jaw worked spasmodically as he slowly lifted his robes from his shoulders, the act of a man whose relatively young life had seen one too many battles-battles of the soul and battles of the world. "Fletcher was one of the ones who found him. He knew something was wrong when the transponder on Highland's armband was deactivated." Sirius' own armband had been tossed to the table, the little red light still flashing. "Fletcher said he must have died when he was being transported, but you know how hard it is to know whether someone's really gone." The empty bottle of whiskey was tilted upside down, a single drop sliding down the smooth column of glass. "A very great man has died, Moony..."

"Yes, a great man indeed has died." Remus could agree to that. It surprised him that in the end it wasn't one of the Dark Creatures that had ended Highland's life but a man... a **human being**. The ironies in life would continue to surprise him, he figured, but this... perhaps this time the price of irony was had been much too high. It could have very well been Sirius' shift, Sirius who had been beaten, Sirius who was lying cold and still in the morgue. Suddenly, Remus was once again aware of the mysteries of the universe, the way that there was no balance between good and evil, and that sometimes, despite the best efforts, the wrong-doers got away. It was just the ways of fate, but often times, despite his very best efforts to look on the positive side of things, the mocking face of fate simply pissed him off. In his mind fate was represented by two large burlap bags extended from black hooks on the arms of the scale of time. With each event that passed, whether good or bad, a grain of sand was added to the appropriate bag. Over time, the weight shifted, but never were the two equal. Right now, Remus reckoned that the bad far outweighed the good, for fear of the future contributed to the selfish of acts of people.

Shadowed eyes surveyed Remus' neutral expression with suspicion. Remus gently pushed Sirius into one of the chairs and knelt before him, ignoring the stiffness in his joints. "The qualities that made Highland a great man were the very ones that saved the rest of us, Sirius. Mourn him for his feats, for the hope he instilled in the hearts of people who had been needlessly beaten and tormented. Mourn the fact that a young man died long before his full potential was met." Soft fingers reached up to gently trace the stubble covered jaw line... it pained him for some reason that the hairs were almost thick enough to be a beard. "Just remember that power can corrupt just as it can save."

"Can you-is it possible for-"

"Shush, Padfoot. I **know** where your heart lies."

"But Moony, I had the opportunity to make a decision, and I think-no I **know** I chose the wrong one." Sirius sat drooped in his chair, his fingers threaded through over-long locks of limp black hair. Before Remus could speak, Sirius' eyes took in the cluttered table. "You shopped?"

Pressing a light kiss on Sirius' knee, Remus stood and walked to the cabinets, removing two glass mugs and a jar of nutmeg. Shaking the little canister absently, he began to rummage through the brown bags, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Moony..."

"Ah-ah-ah... here it is. Bone fide genuine Muggle egg nog." His smile was broad and little crinkles cracked the corners of his bright eyes. Thick super rich yellow liquid poured from the paper carton into the two glasses. Sirius eyed the drink apprehensively, thinking that that he had seen ten-year old motor oil that looked more appetizing.

Standing there with the glasses, Remus' face broke out in a knowing smile as Sirius hesitated. "C'mon, Padfoot, it's a gift from Dumbledore... he sent it over this afternoon. There's nothing poisonous in it," he added, exasperated. Sprinkling the fragrant spice over the tops of the creamy beverage, Remus handed one to his mate and took a small sip. "Mmm... remarkably thick. You know," he said lightly, "it was surprisingly easy to order groceries. I just sent my list with the owl to the grocers along with my registration number. Any items they deemed illegal they simply didn't send."

"Remus," Sirius frowned, considering the ramifications if he were to speak what had been first and foremost on his mind all afternoon.

"Hmm?" Remus asked, his eyebrows rose warning him to be careful.

"You look good, Moony," he answered with a smile. For Remus really did look good despite everything that had transpired recently. There was an almost ethereal quality to his countenance, heightened perhaps by the glowing translucent beauty of his skin. Even his eyes, those long-lashed golden eyes, sparkled with some kind of hidden mirth. How Moony could be happy right now was beyond comprehension.

Laughing a tad breathlessly, Remus set his cup down. "Gads, this stuff is pretty awful."

"Really?" Sirius tilted his own glass back, the last residual mouthfuls of the viscous liquid sliding down his throat. "I kind of like it."

"I really missed you, you know," he continued, wishing he could make sense of the aura of happiness surrounding his mate when he himself felt so damn wretched. "Tell me what's making you smile, Moony. I could use some good news."

"It's nothing really, nothing big at all... it's just **this**... all this. I'm just so happy now that you're home. You know," he knelt down again and pulled Sirius' warm hands into his own. "I was so busy hating Highland that I never gave a thought to the fact that he worked so hard to keep you safe-all of you safe. It could have been **you** out there, Sirius, dying... **dead**... and god, I don't know what I would have done if you had left me that way." He lowered his eyes to hide the naked pain slashing across his face and concentrated instead on the way the soft calloused pads of his thumbs caressed Sirius' scarred knuckles. He touched the first one lightly. "I signed the form, but of course you already know that. You look at me asking why. Sirius, I can boycott discrimination and I can rebel against bigotry, but for the first time I can recall I was going about it in a careless, impassioned way-heedless of the consequences. One of my strengths has always been the ability to distance myself from a problem and balance out all the options. And in this instance I only saw myself... I only felt my own humiliation."

As his words slowly tapered off, an odd sort of silence filled the little kitchen. It was so still that the sound of a bit of charred wood breaking off of one of the burning logs was enough to startle both men. Remus' finger gently moved onto the next knuckle, one with a long bone-white scar stretching almost to the joint. "As I told you when we were in London, I can never forget that at one time I was bit. Out there, the balance between good and evil isn't clearly defined. The wolf by nature isn't intrinsically bad; he only acts as he has been programmed to do. What damns his behavior though is the strange pull of nature. That's what's so hard to control and what ultimately becomes incomprehensible, for we as humans like to believe that we have power over our every action. But we can't, Sirius, it's not realistically possible. Even the strongest man can be touched in that one weak spot, in his Achilles' heel so to speak, and commit acts of atrocity.

"I don't want to become an example, Sirius," he continued, the gentle cadence of his words calming the anger fueling in Sirius' chest. "I want to live... I want to be free. Yes, I know. Highland's orders and regulations have temporarily taken away my license to make my own decisions, but being obstinate isn't the way to win this battle... and unfortunately, he's dead so we'll just have to wait and see what happens next."

"So that's it?" Sirius argued incredulously. "You just want to wait?"

"I'll petition, Padfoot, I'll set up meetings, gather supporters, and let the Ministry hear first-hand stories from survivors. We're victims of circumstance-many of us-and we can't turn this into an all out battle, for we'll always be seen as the quote on quote bad guys and then we'll lose. It'll take time... time and a lot of patience. I've resigned myself to the fact that we'll never be treated as equals, for fear often lies in deep waters, invisible until someone stirs it up again-and someone inevitably will, you know that."

"This pessimistic outlook hardly suits you, Moony."

"Not pessimistic, just realistic," Remus countered gently. "I was living in an idealistic state before-pretending that every werewolf was like me-rational, caring, **loved**... and that's just not the case. Because at the end, I might just be the **only** werewolf who is loved so much." His eyes sparkled with a mixture of tenderness and sadness.

"Come," he motioned for Sirius to stand. "Let's sit by the tree." Sirius came to his feet stiffly and followed Remus into the front room, his hand clasped tightly around his mate's.

The iridescent glow springing forth from the strings of lights cast cobwebby patterns on the ceiling, and the needles of the fir tree were soft to the touch as Sirius bent down to retrieve a fallen bell. He shook the golden object gently, a whisper of tinkling in the otherwise quiet room. Smiling, Remus added a few more logs to the fire then curled up on the soft carpet before the hearth, an old plaid blanket draped across his lap. Silently, Sirius joined him, pleased when Remus sensed his arrival and lifted the corner of the blanket to welcome him into the warmth. It was a beautiful feeling, this sensation of harmony, and both men thrilled at the idea that finally the war was over and nights like this were to become the norm.

"Do you realize, Padfoot," Remus murmured the golden brilliance of his eyes catching the bright oranges and yellows of the flames, "that this is the first time since 1981 when there isn't something or someone waiting for us in the morning? We can sit here all night, doing absolutely nothing and it's not going to matter."

Sirius' arm was strong against Remus' back, the gentle pressure of his hand on Remus' shoulder reassuring and warm. With a slow fluid movement, he pulled back, toppling the two of them to the floor. Laughing, he caught Remus in his embrace and touched his nose with his own. Soft, full breaths passed between the two men as they simply stared at each other, drinking in the heady sensation of loving and of being loved. His Moony was a truly gorgeous thing, filled with light and hope and a type of radiance unknown to so many **whole** men. **Labels, they're just labels** , he thought with a momentary sense of true clarity. Pulling one of his hands from beneath Remus' back where it had been caught in the fall, he reached up to gently cup the chiseled cheek, so smooth and silky in its beauty. He drew back slightly, and it pleased him to hear the soft protesting moan when their noses disconnected.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Moony..." he whispered, "and I wish so very **very** much that I could have had the chance to tell Highland exactly what I think of his new plan. I should have made my feelings known a whole lot earlier."

"When?" Remus asked, his own breath coming a bit quicker from the proximity of his mate. It dawned on him that this was the closest they had been in over seven months, and suddenly he was pressed with the urgency to stop the talking. "Sirius," he began, wanting to end the conversation for good, "if you had spoken up sooner you could have destroyed the delicate balance hanging in existence. The war was centered on one man's rampant desire for power-I could hardly, with good conscience, ask you to have regrets about your decision. After all, to change things would have been to make the needs of another single man more important than those of the rest of the world. A man for a man is not the solution, so shh..." he placed a finger over Sirius' protesting lips. "It's Christmas, Padfoot," he reminded him gently.

And it was indeed Christmas as the clock chiming midnight ushered in that most wondrous of days. As Sirius lay there, his chest resting atop his lover, his partner, his **mate** , he couldn't find it within his heart anymore to harbor resentment towards Highland. "I suppose Highland was doing what he thought best," he said begrudgingly.

"Well, that's one way to put it," Remus laughed wryly. "It'll change, you'll see. Highland's specialty was defense tactics and strategy and that's what made him such a genius. But I am afraid your **hero** was lacking a bit in the humanistic ways," he teased. "However, a man once told me that I owe my life to Highland, and I suppose in a way I do, so I can be thankful for that."

"God," Sirius growled, his lips centimeters from Remus, his warm breath warming the other man's cheeks. "You're so damn **forgiving** Remus... if I could only have a sickles worth of your generosity I'd probably be a better man."

Reaching up with his hands to pull him as close as possible, Remus whispered his final words of the evening so softly that Sirius wondered later if he had perhaps imagined them: "I only have to look into your soul to find **my** completeness. Merry Christmas, love."


End file.
